I’ve mentioned in the last two blogs that my family split up when I was nine. My father was a military man and alcoholic and I rankled under his strange domination. I was glad and relieved when he went away, but at the same time, scared. I didn’t know what we were going to do. My mother now had four kids to raise alone. Family suddenly became clan, unit, tight little army, to be jealously protected against the outside. It was clear to me at that age that my responsibility had become to help bring in money. My mom worked a full time job as secretary to a mortgage company and I actively solicited every after school job I could find. Anything to help her. Delivering groceries, newspapers, mowing lawns, raking leaves. I learned to work above my age level. I grew and got stronger. Somehow we got by without him. By the time I was fifteen we had moved to Charlotte. I managed to get a job in a new hamburger joint named McDonald’s. The year was 1959. Rock n Roll, Elvis, Chuck Berry, Jerry Lee, Little Richard. McDonald’s counted their success by how many millions of burgers they’d sold. I remember changing the numbers from 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18 million sold. I learned to work fast. I emptied bags of potatoes into spinning tubs lined with heavy sandpaper to be skinned, threw the bare potatoes into a wire press and pulled the handle that sliced them into fries, dumped them into hot boiling oil to cook. While they were frying oh so sweetly I slapped down 64 burger patties on the huge grill in 8X8 patterns with the buns warming on the grill above the burgers. After flipping the burgers and cooking the other side I would place them in the buns and stack them on a tray to be wrapped in paper and placed in the heated racks. The fries were scooped into small paper bags showing the Golden Arches. Harvey, the manager was a short, muscular man in his 30s, with a white tee shirt, and flat top haircut. Ex marine, Korean War vet, he was tough, corporate, and rigid in exacting discipline to his staff of teenage boys. We were his little hamburger army and he ruled us like a drill sergeant on Parris Island. We were efficient, organized and kept the kitchen clean as a hospital surgery. He rehearsed us in how to greet the customers, what to say, and if a person of color were to come to the window (which he said, would probably never happen) we were to say these exact words. “I’m sorry but we’re not allowed to serve your kind here.” Even at fifteen, I was shocked. I couldn’t believe that any business that expected to make money would turn away customers. Especially based on something as stupid as skin color. Money is all one color. I secretly swore I would never do that and went on with my business. My business was making money to help my mom out. But sure enough, one Sunday afternoon around the time the churches let out, a modest sedan pulled up in front and a colored gentleman got out. He was dressed in a dark suit and tie and approached the window. I was stuck. I could see my manager in the corner of my vision watching me. The man said “Good afternoon”.”How are you doing?” I replied. And the man said “Fine, thank you. I’d like four hamburgers with french fries, three cokes and a chocolate milk shake.“ My mouth and throat went dry. I could only stare at the gentleman. After a moment of looking at each other he said, “Is something wrong?” My heart was banging. I heard myself stammer, embarrassed, “I’m sorry sir, but we’re not allowed to serve your kind here.” The man didn’t react. He simply said, very quietly. “What did you say to me?” I couldn’t repeat it. “They make us say that.” was all I could say.”I’m sorry.” He took a breath and looked at me with sadness, as if he pitied me. “Son,” he said softly, ‘you see that car?” I said “Yes sir.” “There are hungry children in that car. You cannot deny them food.” We looked at each other a moment and I saw Harvey approaching from my left. I waved him off. “You’re absolutely right sir,’ I said, ‘I’ll get your order right away.” I put together his order as Harvey fumed off to the side. I served the gentleman and he thanked me and paid. As I rung up his cash and gave him his change, he took my hand in his and said quietly, “Son, you’ve done a good thing here today. Thank you” I said, “You’re welcome sir, Y’all come back any time.” As the man walked to his car I braced myself. “Mason!’ I heard from the kitchen, ‘Get over here!” Harvey was so angry his face was red under his white paper cap. “What the hell was that?” His biceps were bulging and the veins stood out on his neck. “You know the rules! Why’d you serve that man?” I was afraid Harvey would punch me in the face, he was that furious. And he was tough. “He had hungry kids, Harvey.” He almost screamed, “You listen to me, Mason. You ever do anything like that again and I’ll fire you! You understand me?” At that very moment I realized that I wasn’t happy in this job. All of my fifteen year old resentment of misplaced authority around my father’s occasional returns and militant abuses had built a chip on my shoulder that occasionally resulted in righteous indignation. This was one of the occasions, “Know what Harvey, you don’t have to. Fuck you. I quit!” I took off my apron and threw it on the floor. I turned my back and walked to the door, thinking at any moment he would spin me around and punch me out. I was a strapping teen who could handle himself in a fight, but he was a man in his thirties with combat training. I was scared. But nothing happened. And apparently, somewhere along the line, McDonald’s learned their lesson. It may have taken law suits, I don’t know, but they wised up and sell their stuff to anybody with the price. They don’t even weigh their success in Billions of burgers sold. I’m sure they’ve lost count. Racism, prejudice toward a person because of their skin is stupid, narrow and pointless. There will always be different people. If only these white yayhooos could get it. So, if you believe as I do that the world is full of all kinds of people and we all have to do what The Master said, and “Love one another as I have loved you,” then you’re in good shape. Make a beautiful world.